


Inner, Secret Glamour

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Crossdressing, It's Eventually Resolved, M/M, Panties, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension, ambiguous setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 12:56:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10465542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: "You can tell a lot about a person from his underwear."--Rachel BilsonCarisi has the whole rainbow hiding in his well-pressed slacks.Rafael wants to see.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this has been sitting in my drafts for AGES. initially i was gonna rewrite this so that it happened in r-o-y-g-b-i-v order, but that was too much work; this flows so naturally, that the colors being out of order just works. no actual smut, but lots of tension, eye-fucking, and teasing.
> 
> it's been a while since i dipped my toes in this fandom, but i'm so in love with how this turned out. i hope you all like it too!

It starts on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, when Carisi is bending over at the waist to pick up papers he’s dropped. Rafael can’t help the way his eyes snap first to Carisi’s long arms stretching to grab the scattered papers. Nor can he help the way his eyes follow the lines of Carisi’s thighs up to the curve of his ass all the way up to where his shirt is coming untucked and something lacy and hot pink peaks out from the waistband of his gray slacks. Rafael blinks rapidly, first wondering when Carisi’s shirt had come untucked and then wondering what could possibly be hot pink, lacy, and in Carisi’s pants.

Rafael looks away as Carisi stands up straight again, papers gathered in his arms; he drops his gaze to his desk and his own papers and ignores the way Carisi hovers for as long as he can. As Carisi moves to adjust his shirt—and Rafael notices that the soft baby blue color of the shirt is disarmingly good-looking against Carisi’s skin—Rafael finally speaks up.

“Anything else you needed, detective?” He asks just to be a pain in the ass. Carisi had dropped off some files and Rafael had handed some over as well, things he needed signed by the rest of the SVU squad, those being the papers Carisi promptly dropped.

“Uh,” Carisi pinks in the apples of his cheeks. “Nah, counselor, think I got all I need.” There’s the faintest note of disappointment in his tone, as though their already unnecessarily long visit is still too short. Rafael knows he can’t be encouraging any sort of lollygagging or tomfoolery, no matter how much he would like to. For all he taunts and teases, he doesn’t mind Carisi all that much, not much at all.

Idly, Rafael’s thoughts drift back to the flash of hot pink he’d seen just a few moments before.

“Goodnight, counselor,” Carisi bids with a casual wave. He turns without waiting for an answer and goes for the door. Rafael doesn’t stop him, eyes trained on his ass as he watches Carisi leave.

 

 

Two weeks later, it happens again.

Rafael hasn’t let that memory of hot pink and lace fade, not one bit. So when he walks into the precinct’s bathroom with the completely normal intent of taking a leak, only to see Carisi shirtless and dabbing at a scrape along his side with his pants hanging far too low on his hips and this time something lacy and a deep blue clinging to his skin—wait, what was Rafael doing again?

Rafael catches Carisi’s eye quick, and pretends not to notice the blatant display of women’s underwear barely hiding beneath the pinstripe black slacks that hug Carisi’s body near obscenely.

“Uh, counselor, hey. Sorry.”

Rafael raises an eyebrow. “What are you apologizing for, detective?”

Carisi blushes. “Makin’ a mess, I guess, taking up the whole bathroom.”

Rafael blinks slowly back at Carisi, lips curling in amusement. He waves a flippant hand before Carisi can start his usual rambling and instead moves towards a urinal. They’re on the opposite wall of the bathroom from the sink and mirror Carisi is standing at, and as Rafael sidles up to the porcelain, an awkward silence falls.

“Detective, we’re both grown men. Surely I can take a leak without marring your opinion of me.”

Carisi turns quick as a whip to face the mirror again, tending to the injury at his side. Rafael lets the teasing drop for a moment and goes about his business, paying Carisi almost no mind. Almost.

Every time he blinks, the brief glimpse of dark blue covering the pale skin of Carisi’s hip burns behind his eyelids. Rafael’s mouth goes dry and as he gives his prick a cursory shake, he feels himself start to harden. It’s obnoxious, juvenile, would be nearly humiliating if Carisi had any idea what he was doing to Rafael.

He snaps himself out of his thoughts long enough to tuck his half hard cock away and move toward the sink not occupied by Carisi. “What happened?” Rafael asks with a pointed nod to the mild wound. He starts to wash his hands and watches from the corner of his eye as Carisi stops tending to the scrape to gape at Rafael again.

“Was chasing a perp, did a full body slid across some gravel. Nothing serious.”

Rafael nods. “Did you catch him?” He asks, though he knows full well they did.

All the same, Carisi preens. “Yep,” he pops the last letter with a full-teeth grin. He peaks down at his scrape and shrugs. “Does it look alright to you?” He asks, turning a little more to show the red, faintly torn skin to Barba. In the same motion his pants slip a little more down his hips—his pants undone probably only because the scrape seems to dip down to his hip and crease of his groin. As the black slacks slip, more of that deep blue catches Rafael’s eye.

He wonders, idly, if Carisi even remembers what underwear he’s got on. He wonders if Carisi even knows what he’s doing right now.

Rafael flicks his eyes up briefly to actually do a brief once-over of Carisi’s side. “Looks fine, detective.” He looks up then to meet Carisi’s gaze. “Good work today.” He doesn’t know why he says it, other than perhaps the warmth that spreads in his gut as Carisi beams like a damn ray of sunshine at the smallest amount of praise. Rafael doesn’t let the moment linger, and instead nods shortly at Carisi, then turns on his heel to leave.

 

 

The next time it happens, Rafael has to wonder if Carisi is doing it on purpose. After the deep navy blue staining his skin in subtle lace, and the way he had showed it off, Rafael hadn’t stopped wondering where Carisi’s obliviousness ended and his mischievousness began.

So when it happens again, Rafael feels fairly confident it’s intentional.

Not to mention _bright lime green_. It’d be hilarious and hideous if it didn’t get Rafael’s blood pressure spiking.

“Counselor?” Carisi asks like he isn’t in a nearly too-short tank top and stupidly loose basketball shorts. He’s grinning, sweaty, and Rafael can’t look away from the blatant strip of green lace sticking out from the waist of his drawstring shorts.

“What on earth are you wearing, detective?” Rafael asks with as much bite as he can muster.

“Oh, this?” Carisi looks down. “Just got done shooting hoops with Amaro. Figured I’d get changed into some spare clothes here, rather than going back home and risk getting caught in traffic.”

Rafael nods slowly like he even bothered listening to a single thing Carisi had said. The green lace—bright, limey, is that glitter in the stitching? The green lace is most certainly mocking him, Rafael decides.

“You play sports at all, counselor? You seem like a fit guy,” Carisi jokes.

Rafael scoffs, like expected of him. “Hardly. Not all of us can take breaks on the playground, Carisi.”

Carisi is unaffected by the jibe, something that’s becoming more and more common the longer he’s around Rafael. Instead, Carisi chuckles and shrugs. “Gotta unwind somehow, right?” He drops his hands to his waist and cants his hips forward as he stretches. It’s a none too subtle move, and Rafael has to wonder if maybe he’s just projecting. Carisi has always been about as subtle as a sledgehammer to the face, but this…. this seems like a little much, even for him.

Rafael clears his throat as Carisi’s body relaxes again. He opens his mouth slowly waiting for some sort of quip to come to him, but Carisi speaks first.

“And counselor, really, how many times I gotta tell ya? Call me Sonny.” Carisi flashes him a grin, one oozing with an attempt at charm.

Rafael would like to say the grin doesn’t get to him, but that would be a lie. That doesn’t mean he’s going to give in and call Carisi anything other than _Carisi_ and _detective_.

“Oh, crap,” Carisi’s voice cuts through his thoughts, not for the first time. “I gotta go, counselor, sorry.” Carisi raises his hand in something like a wave goodbye crossed with a mock salute. Rafael is loath to admit how endearing he finds the ridiculous gesture. He really only likes it because it’s coupled with that same, blinding grin from before. Not that that helps Rafael’s case—his case being that he is resolutely not attracted to Dominick Carisi Jr, not in the slightest—but… oh, who is he kidding.

 

 

“Not the color I would’ve chosen, but he makes it work.”

Rafael stops in his tracks, stops in his approach of his colleagues at a booth in the corner of a bar. Granted, he would’ve stopped anyway since he’s now standing beside their table, but the words catch him off guard enough for him to stumble a bit. He moves his gaze from person to person, first Liv, then Finn, then Amaro, and lastly Rollins. All of them aren’t looking at him, though, instead looking toward the bar.

Rafael turns to see what’s so interesting.

He trips again, over nothing.

Hunched over the bar and vying for attention from a decidedly uncaring bartender, is Sonny, with his basic undershirt riding up his back slowly to reveal electric yellow underwear.

Electric yellow _lacy_ underwear.

That everyone on the squad seems to know about.

Rafael looks at Liv first, who meets his gaze with a shrug. “That’s Carisi for you.”

“Yeah, I mean,” Rollins starts up again, she was the one to have commented before, “I’d never wear that color.” She gestures to her hair. “It’d be awful. But, I dunno, it’s not awful on him.”

Rafael is speaking before he can bite his tongue. “Are you telling me everyone in SVU is aware of Carisi’s proclivity for wearing women’s underwear?” He had honestly been starting to believe it was a ploy by Carisi to drive Rafael into an early, sexually frustrated grave. Evidently not.

Finn looks vaguely uncomfortable. Amaro, with a roll of his eyes, is the one to answer Rafael’s mostly hypothetical question, in surprising detail. “He doesn’t _always_ wear ‘em, and it was a lot more awkward when he was wearing those pants that were, I dunno, two sizes too big?” Amaro looks around the table for confirmation. Indeed, he gets some nods. “Now, though, it’s not as noticeable, I guess.”

Rafael would very much have to disagree with that.

When Sonny—and damn, when had Rafael let that name start slipping into his thoughts—returns to the table with drinks and shots for everyone, Rafael resists the urge to look at his hips. He instead keeps his eyes very carefully trained on Carisi’s face, and eyes, and slightly disheveled hair. Not on the way his perhaps-a-size-too-small undershirt rides up now and again, always revealing that same glimpse of garishly yellow lace.

 

 

“So, counselor,” right on time—that is, if there is such a thing as being on time to a completely impromptu meeting—Carisi waltzes in with a swagger that looks hilarious on him. Rafael just eyes him in an attempt to be disparaging. An attempt that clearly fails, given that Sonny’s mood doesn’t change at all. “Any big plans for Valentine’s Day?” He asks as he sinks into the chair across from Rafael. He slumps in the chair, looking relaxed and giddy and with an annoyingly adorable twinkle in his eye.

Rafael glares. “What’s it to you, detective?” He asks, harsh.

Carisi shrugs. “Just friendly conversation. I don’t have anything goin’ on. Might swing by Bella’s and take the kiddo off her hands so she and Tommy can have a nice night out.”

Rafael allows himself to soften, ever so slightly. “How magnanimous of you,” he retorts, even though it’s not exactly a secret that Sonny’s favorite thing in the world is to spend time with his niece.

Sonny shrugs, caught in the charade. “What can I say, the little bug won me over.”

Rafael grins and his chest warms when Sonny grins back. “For the record,” Rafael finds himself speaking before he can think better of it, “I don’t have any plans either.” He sits back in his seat and does his best to put out an aura of relaxed contentedness. He’s not lonely, nor is he pining over Sonny Carisi of all people. He’s perfectly happy to stay in and work overtime on cases, as opposed to going out to a nice dinner.

Speaking of, Rafael raises the file he’d been reading to his attention again, though rather than taking in the information he peaks over the edge of the manila folder to steal glances. Sonny seems none the wiser, happily settled in the chair like he belongs there, seemingly pleased to just sit in a not so awkward silence with Rafael. After a moment, Sonny startles, then starts to stretch. His long legs unfurl to go straight, and he raises his arms above his head.

It's a well-practiced move, Rafael can see the calculations behind it a mile away. He knows it’s a manipulative, flirtatious maneuver on Sonny’s part. He knows he shouldn’t give in to the temptation so clearly being offered to him.

None of that knowledge stops Rafael from dropping his gaze to the waistband of Carisi’s slacks and admiring the traditional, stark red lace clinging to his hipbones.

Part of Rafael wants to comment, _finally_ say something about the tension that’s been bubbling for months. He wants to comment in the form of a biting remark that Sonny is wearing women’s lingerie and is planning to spend the evening with a toddler than finally make the move on Rafael. He doesn’t, though. Rafael doesn’t acknowledge the red lace other than to ogle it for a few moments longer. When Sonny’s stretching ends, Rafael pretends to be completely absorbed in his file.

He doesn’t miss the brief disappointed curve of Sonny’s lips.

 

 

The next time it happens is entirely unintentional, at least on Sonny’s part. The sexual tension simmering between Rafael and the detective has settled the past couple weeks. Rafael’s cowardice—that is, his dismissal of Sonny’s invitation, blatant and delicious as it was—had dampened the spark. Sonny is quieter, more reserved, around Rafael at the very least. He isn’t sure if the withdrawal extends to the rest of the team, and isn’t about to ask.

The next time it happens, Rafael is strolling through the office to speak with Olivia. He passes by the side room where the coffeepots churn away, and what was meant to be a cursory glance around becomes a staring contest between himself and Carisi’s body.

Sonny doesn’t notice him, which isn’t surprising. Sonny is deeply entrenched in reaching up toward a top shelf for who-knows-what. As he stretches, going up on his toes even, his untucked shirt crawls up his body. Rafael is far from surprised by the dayglow orange lace clinging to familiar skin.

( _Familiar skin_? Rafael wills the blush away, good lord.)

He turns away quickly, before Sonny can catch him staring. As he barrels into Liv’s office, though, he realizes he can’t remember what he came to talk about in the first place.

 

 

It finally comes to a head six months after the first time Rafael had caught that glimpse of hot pink against Carisi’s skin.

He catches Carisi with a hand on the hip, steering him away from the cluster of desks and instead down the hall. No one pays them any mind as they go, either out of obliviousness or respect and Rafael doesn’t care which. He guides Carisi to an empty side room, and locks the door behind him after shoving Sonny inside.

“Counselor?” Sonny asks, all faux-innocence dripping from his tone. He’s grinning, and flushed, and Rafael sees right through him.

“Show me.” Rafael’s command echoes off the walls. He already knows what color Carisi is wearing today—purple, deep and luscious and inviting—as he caught a glimpse when Carisi dived for a perp and his shirt rode up as it is wont to do. He already knows the color, but he’s sick of hoping, waiting, craving for a look at it. He wants it all to himself, he wants Sonny to give that to him.

Blush in full force across his cheeks, Sonny obliges. He unbuckles his belt and lets it hang off his hips, followed quickly by his pants. The button is smooth and quiet as it pops undone, but the zipper is harsh and grating and feels like it takes ages. Slowly the dirt-scuffed gray slacks slip down hips and thighs and _finally_ Rafael gets to see _everything_.

“Sonny,” he breathes quietly, reveling in the sharp inhale he gets in response. Rafael can’t look away. The purple fabric is thicker, still lacy, but it’s harder to catch sight of pale skin between the threads. There’s no glimmer or sparkle woven into the cloth, simple but eye-catching all the same. It’s wider along the sides, less of a string and more of a strap. It hugs the curves of his hip bones and slowly but surely draws all attention to his rapidly hardening cock.

Idly, Rafael wonders how Sonny can fit everything in such dainty panties so easily, so completely. He decides he’d rather save the question for later.

“Sonny,” Rafael murmurs again as he finally steps forward. Sonny answers him with a quiet whimper and by staying entirely still. Rafael touches his face first, lets the rasp of stubble scrape under his touch. He skirts his fingertips over Sonny’s lips and gives into the urge to chase the touch with his own mouth. He kisses Sonny soft and sweet, gentle despite the desire burning between their bodies.

Sonny responds eagerly and opens his mouth under Rafael’s, sucks on his tongue and a moan reverberates and Rafael doesn’t know who it comes from.

“I want to touch you.” As he speaks, Rafael’s touch drifts down Carisi’s body until his touch is hovering over his scantily-clad crotch.

“Please do,” Sonny retorts and cants his hips forward. He pushes his half hard cock against Rafael’s hand and ruts. His hands snap to Raf’s shoulders and rumples the finely tailored suit in his grip. Rafael steadies him with one hand curled around his hip again, the other a steady pressure against his groin.

“As much as I would love to take you apart until you’re in nothing but these,” to accent his words, he snaps the purple lace against already flushed skin. “I would rather not get arrested in the very precinct you work in for public indecency.” Reluctantly, Rafael pulls back. He removes his hand from Sonny’s prick, now at full attention, and takes his other hip in hand. “I say we finish this at my place.”

Sonny squirms impatiently but nods so fervently he nears knocks into Rafael. He scrambles for his pants and yanks them back on as fast as he can. He struggles to buckle his belt again and eventually just keens in defeat. “If we hurry,” he says, heated, “no one’s gonna notice my belt’s undone.”

Rafael wants to laugh—so he does. His laugh is quick and hearty and he smothers it by kissing Sonny again. “Let’s hurry, then.”

 

 

And if, as they try to sneak by the open door to the bullpen where the other officers are casually celebrating, Fin catches them briefly and if his gaze lands on Sonny’s undone belt—well, no one has to say a word about that.


End file.
